


Perspective

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Freddie gets pulled from the stage into the audience.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23
Collections: Freddie Mercury Weekend 2020!





	Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Is This The Real Life - That Time The Audience Almost Killed Freddie.

Glasgow, Apollo Theatre, 8th November 1974

Just a moment of distraction, that was all it had been, a fraction of a second when his attention had wandered. He’d caught a glimpse of bright hair, the curve of a cheek. He had thought it was Mary but of course it couldn’t be. She was hundreds of miles away in London.

And in that little fragment of time he had strayed too close to the edge of the stage. 

And the eager outstretched hands of the screaming audience had seen their chance and plucked him off the stage into their sweaty, heaving, howling midst.

Hot hands grasped his arms and legs. They were chanting his name. “Freddie! Freddie! Freddie!”

And the band played on.

There was something primitive about it: the beat of Roger’s drums, the chants of the audience. The crowd wanted to possess him as the music possessed them. They wanted to make him one with them, to absorb him as they absorbed the music – his music. Did they worship him as their musical God? Did they want to devour him?

He should probably be more frightened than he was.

The crowd seemed to heave like a storm swollen sea. Individuals united in a common goal of touching him. Did they think his touch would heal them as the music healed their souls?

He was glad his stage outfit was so well made otherwise he suspected he’d be naked by now. He must send a thank you note to the designer. He was slightly surprised by how robust the material seemed to be. 

He tried to protest but knew the crowd could not hear him. The mass of bodies seemed to be rushing forwards now like a towering wave, roaring. Had the band stopped playing? All he could hear was the deafening cacophony of his name being screeched, howled, crooned and yelled.

Then he could hear voices commanding people to move out of the way and he was firmly grasped by one of the burly security men and swiftly brought back to the stage. He had apparently dropped the mic when he was snatched and he scooped it up now.

The band had not stopped playing. They were still battering away at their instruments. “You’re all so enthusiastic, darlings!” Freddie purred into the mic.

He moved gracefully towards the safety of the drum risers, to the comfort of Roger’s warm smile as he mouthed to Freddie, “Are you okay?” Freddie nodded.

He headed for the piano, introducing the next song on autopilot. He controlled this crowd. He owned them. It was a giddy realisation. They were his.

But he also belonged to them. He was theirs. 

The power he exerted over them was intoxicating.

The power they held over him was terrifying.

Being amongst them had been frightening, but also exhilarating. This was where he was supposed to be. This was what he was supposed to be doing. The stars were aligning. This was their moment. This was his moment. They were on the cusp of something powerful and wonderful. He could feel it in the energy and exuberance of the crowd.

From today their audience could own Queen’s latest album, could possess Sheer Heart Attack and play their hit Killer Queen to their heart’s content. But they would never own it like Freddie owned it. It would never consume them in quite the same way it consumed him, never belong to them the way it belonged to him and the band.

The crowd were on the outside looking in. Tonight they had tried to make him one with them, to absorb him, but Freddie thought Queen was evolving now. Soon they would be far removed from the world the crowd inhabited with their nine to five jobs, seeking music to brighten their lives. Freddie had been there and done that but he had been born to do this. He could feel it. It was his purpose. He existed to put on a glorious show.

And then, as he opened his mouth to let his voice soar Brian started the bloody guitar solo early and Freddie was suddenly no longer floating on air, he was back on the stage again, working. It was possible that Brian had been rattled by Freddie’s disappearance into the crowd. Yes, it was possible. But, more likely, perhaps, he was simply in thrall to his bloody (beautiful) guitar as they were all, one way or another, in thrall to the music.


End file.
